Like a Squiggle
by Feral Phoenix
Summary: For nearly his entire existence, nothing was important to Nessiah except vengeance. And then he fell in love. With Gulcasa. Oops.  spoilers, cracky GulcasaxNessiah


Like a Squiggle

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Yggdra Union, Gulcasa, or Nessiah. I just own plot bunnies, and the inclinations to write silly love stories like this one.

Nessiah looked across the room at where Gulcasa was standing talking to his attendants and wondered how the holy fuck this had happened.

For hundreds, _thousands _of years, he'd stuck single-mindedly to one very vital goal: Revenge on the gods who'd condemned, crippled, and exiled him for a crime he hadn't committed. Tenacity was his damn middle name. Setbacks? Who cared? He'd continue to live long after any setbacks were long dead and rotted to nothing. He _would _have what he wanted, and he would have it no matter what.

For millennia, he'd clung to the hope for vengeance, and had never let anything so much as distract him. And he was so close now—the Holy Sword just needed a little more power, and it would have reached its maximum potential. Showtime. In a matter of months or years, he'd finally be able to reclaim his treasured artifact and openly defy those arrogant bastards in Asgard, and then break his bindings at last, reclaim real life.

Only thing was, somehow that voracious desire for revenge had somehow gotten sidelined. And now, all he really wanted… all he really needed…

Had he just gone crazy somewhere along the lines? Nessiah wondered helplessly, shaking his head as he continued to trace Gulcasa's movements with his magical sight. That was really the only rational explanation for it.

The age difference alone, and the difference of species, made it obscene. There was the discrepancy in innocence, too. Gulcasa was a good person, and he was already mixed up enough in all of this that Nessiah should know better than to drag him in any further. He was a walking disaster; anyone that got near him invariably ended up the worse for it in the long run. Having Gulcasa as a friend and ally was bad enough, but—

But that didn't stop him from daydreaming.

Or, okay, let's be honest—why the hell not, at this point—obsessing.

Nessiah had never particularly wanted, needed, or thought about sex. The thought of being that close to another person was, after everything that had happened to him, repelling. To be fair, there _had _been that time with Paltina all those centuries ago, but he'd been nearly incapable of thinking back then and hadn't realized where things were going until they were there. It had all worked out. Paltina'd been a man-hater, and since she was a mortal and the Gran Centurio had bonded to her, Nessiah's desperate plans for vengeance would've been consigned to pipedreams if she hadn't had his child. But, again—an accident, an embarrassment. That had been borderline rape. Thinking about it still made him a little queasy.

Hence, it _really _did not make sense the way he was feeling now.

It was irrational, but he couldn't escape these _desires—_whenever Gulcasa came near, Nessiah's heart would give a little flip in his chest, and then he'd start _wanting._

He wanted to get his hands on those long waves of scarlet hair, feel for himself if they were really as silken as they looked. He wanted to know how those big, callused hands would feel on his body, wanted to trace the lean lines of those muscles, wanted the light trace of those fingertips down his back, over his scars.

He wanted to be touched, wanted to be held, wanted to be had in raw and desperate need in the small hours of the night. He wanted to settle into Gulcasa's arms, wanted to hear the young emperor's voice go velveteen the way it did when he was being gentle, wanted to be told that everything was alright, wanted to be told that he was loved. He wanted that long, hot, sweet romance-novel kiss, and everything that came after.

The want was like an itch that couldn't be scratched whenever Gulcasa came anywhere near him, something he fought to suppress so that Gulcasa would continue on in ignorance of exactly what his presence was doing to the fallen angel. When he was alone, the want would ambush him suddenly, have him dreaming of things he'd forbidden himself for so long.

At night, the want would wake him up hot and sweating and crazy with need and he would let those half-formed dreams take hold, giving in to lust and running his hands over his own body until he broke and lay there ashamed and panicked and not understanding what was happening to him.

Damn it, he hadn't come this far to be afflicted by some kind of adolescent insanity right at the most critical part of his plans.

Insanity. Infatuation. Desire. Or maybe, love.

It all amounted to basically the same thing.

But he couldn't get Gulcasa any more involved with him, Nessiah reminded himself again, wrapping his arms around his chest as he shivered. He was already only here in Bronquia to suggest a war when the time was right, so that Fantasinia would be forced into using the Gran Centurio until it was at the apex of its powers and Nessiah could take it back. Dammit. He shouldn't care this much. If he wasn't fully in control of his senses, he could slip up, and Bronquia's new independent empire would be destroyed in conflict.

Besides.

Gulcasa was _straight._

So he stood there and watched longingly and dreamed of Gulcasa's touch while he watched his friend and ally finish his conversation, then wave off his attendants and cross the room. Towards him.

Nessiah wanted to sink down on the floor and beg to be taken, wanted to run forward and fling himself into Gulcasa's arms. He did neither. Instead, he stood still and hoped Gulcasa would go off somewhere else.

He didn't.

"Can I talk to you alone for a bit?" Gulcasa asked.

Before Nessiah could agree, disagree, or demand to know if Gulcasa was insane, tempting him like this, Gulcasa had taken him by the arm and was leading him off down the hall towards his own private quarters.

Once they were inside—Gulcasa was locking the door, Nessiah realized in bewilderment and slight nervousness—he crossed his arms again and watched the redhead a little warily. "What is it?"

Gulcasa just headed back towards him, coming closer and closer until Nessiah was forced to take a step back and feel the wall cold against his shoulders, and gazed down at him with something dangerous glinting in the depths of those unfathomable golden eyes. "…Nessiah. I'd like to try something…"

And before he could ask what, Gulcasa had leaned down and their lips were tangled up in a fevered kiss.

Fulfillment had him moaning and arching up against that hard, muscled body before he could think any words beyond _what the hell—? _Confused and hopelessly out of his depth, Nessiah readily surrendered as Gulcasa put one arm around his waist and the other across his back, proceeding to kiss him deaf, mute, and blind.

When Gulcasa at last let go, Nessiah collapsed against the wall and slid nervelessly to the floor, dizzy and shaking and wanting and hurting with love.

"I knew it," Gulcasa said softly, kneeling down in front of him. "You've been watching me with that face like your heart's breaking for so long, but—I had to be sure. You have feelings for me, don't you…?"

_Of course I bloody do; I want you to throw me down and make me yours right here, right now—_ But he didn't say it. Instead, he just shook his head numbly. "Gulcasa, I—we can't, you're—"

"There are a million and one reasons why we _can't," _Gulcasa said with an impatient wave of his hand. "I'm not interested in them. All I need to know is, do you want me like I want you?"

_I'm dreaming. Or I'm insane. Or he is. _Hot, desperate want refused to let those thoughts any further. Nessiah couldn't speak. All he could do was nod once.

Thoughts slid together and melted into incoherent confusion and desire as Gulcasa leaned in and kissed him again, then picked him up effortlessly and carried him off towards the bed. He didn't know if he could ever understand how this was happening, or why. He only knew that he'd been sick with need for this for so long that it would be insanity to protest.

There was pain. There was pleasure. There was the answer to every dream he'd ever held. And then, there was glory.

---

Later—much later—as the two of them lay curled together, Nessiah staring up at the canopy of the bed, he set his nails to his bare skin and pressed down hard. It hurt. A lot. He wasn't dreaming.

"Why—all this?" he asked aloud.

"Well, for one thing—constantly being stared at with that bedroom face has a strange way of making me hot. For another—I know that what I feel about you isn't what friends usually feel for each other. I'm not sure if I'm falling in love with you or what, but… I know what my body wants. There's nothing wrong with us giving each other what we need."

That made sense. That made too much sense. Nessiah was tired, so maybe he'd let that serve as an explanation for now.

There was one thing, however, that did _not _make sense.

"But—you're _straight," _he protested at last.

Gulcasa laughed.

Pushing himself up on his elbows, he traced one finger in a gentle wave in the air. "I'm about as straight as a squiggle," he illustrated with unabashed honesty.

"…oh." Nessiah suddenly felt _very_ stupid.

"Luckily for both of us, my gaydar seems to be a lot more functional than yours." Closing his eyes, Gulcasa lay back down. "…Ness, just let this be a lesson to not jump to conclusions without asking to make sure first."

"…right…"

This would require a lot of thought. And some discussion between the two of them. And probably more hot, sweaty, absolutely insane sex.

He might not know how the hell they'd gotten here, but he _was _going to find out where the hell they were going next.

_After _he got some sleep. Hopefully this would make more sense when he woke up.

_Straight like a squiggle, _he thought to himself with a delicate snort as he let his magic go, giving in to the waves of overpowering darkness. _Gulcasa, you sure do have a knack for complicating things._

**Owari.**


End file.
